


Circular Motions

by sinestrated



Category: Bleach
Genre: M/M, Post-Soul Society arc but pre-Hueco Mundo
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-24
Updated: 2016-01-24
Packaged: 2018-05-16 01:51:57
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,651
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5808712
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sinestrated/pseuds/sinestrated
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Byakuya discovers Renji was once engaged, and finds himself strangely bothered by this information.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Circular Motions

**Author's Note:**

> First Bleach fic, if that counts for anything.
> 
> Byakuya is bad at feelings.

 

We hold these truths to be self-evident: the earth goes round the sun, spring in Soul Society is breathtaking, and Kuchiki Byakuya hates paperwork.

 One would never think it to look at him; each form receives a careful signature, each proposal a thorough review, each file a full and accurate perusal as it passes across his desk. Exactly to be expected of a division captain. Indeed, Byakuya prides himself on rendering the management of his division the same as every other aspect of his life: methodical, efficient, and without error.

 He just doesn’t  _like_  it.

 Like any bulky, lumbering bureaucracy, the Gotei 13 seems to have no shortage of administrative pitfalls, from the strangest filing regulations (how, exactly, does one submit a hell butterfly in triplicate?) to record-keeping systems that make no sense (documentation of a recruit nearly getting his arm ripped off by a grumpy lieutenant’s  _shikai_ requires only two forms, while a request for additional linens for the barracks requires over  _seventeen_ ). Some days, Byakuya rather wishes he could drive Senbonzakura straight into the eyeball of the messenger who delivers paperwork to the division each morning.

 On  _especially_  bad days, he considers turning her on himself.

 This is one of those days. Thanks to a gas leak the previous night that had led to the evacuation of half the barracks, Byakuya has been trapped in his office for the past three hours doing nothing but paperwork. No one was badly hurt—though one groggy recruit did run headfirst into a door—but it doesn’t lessen his annoyance. The white  _haori_  proclaims him a captain, a warrior, someone to be feared and respected—not a bloody secretary.

 A noisy sigh jerks him from his thoughts. Blinking, Byakuya turns to regard his lieutenant seated at his desk in the opposite corner of the room. Abarai Renji looks a little the worse for wear: a smudge of dirt across his cheek, a few strands of red hair escaping from his customary ponytail, souvenirs of the afternoon’s training. Dark tattoos shift and slither like snakes as he stretches his arms out behind his head, grimacing as something pops in his spine.

 “I swear,” Renji says then, shaking his head as he straightens back over his own pile of forms, “these things are like medusas. You finish one and two more pop up in its place.”

 Byakuya’s lip twitches. “You are referring to hydras.”

 “Am I? The hell’re medusas then?”

 “Medusa,” Byakuya answers, “was the monster who could turn men to stone if they looked into her eyes.”

 “Ah.” Renji turns his head just enough for Byakuya to catch the edge of a grin, lightning-quick. “Think we could get her to come down here, put us out of our misery?”

And, just like that, the boredom and irritation from before evaporate. Byakuya bites the inside of his cheek to keep from smiling and says, “If only.”

That earns him a soft laugh and a shake of the head as Renji turns away and dutifully picks up his brush once more. Silence settles once again in the Sixth Division office. Somehow, to Byakuya, it feels lighter than before.

Tapping the wooden end of his brush against the surface of the desk, he takes a moment to regard his lieutenant. It is difficult to imagine that, not three weeks ago, this brash, carefree man had been reduced to a barely-breathing, bloody mess, slashed to pieces by the singing blades of Byakuya’s blindness. Wavering and lost, so desperate to hold on to the world he knew, he had nearly killed Renji, had _wanted_ to, in that moment when he’d unleashed his _bankai._

He shudders to think of what might have happened had he continued on that path.

But, in the end, he hadn’t. That infuriating, orange-haired _ryoka_ opened his eyes, struck a spark to the tinder Renji’s determination had laid. And when he woke up the next day in the hospital wing, met Renji’s eyes across the room and saw nothing but forgiveness in them, Byakuya knew.

They would never be as they once were.

He thinks Renji was probably as surprised as he was in the following days, how they somehow came to an understanding without a single word exchanged. It’s mostly been little things. Renji is just a bit more diligent with his paperwork, just a bit more deferent when they speak, no longer the spitting stray dog looking to lash out at the first opportunity. In return, Byakuya finds himself humoring his lieutenant’s less than formal behavior rather than ignoring it, returning his banter rather than shutting it down, choosing to unlock parts of himself long caged away by expectation and propriety.

Aizen’s betrayal and the near-loss of his sister shook loose something between them, generated a gravity that settled them into a hesitant co-orbit. Byakuya would not call them friends, not by any definition of the word. But he does know now that, when he thinks of Renji, it is with a certain warmth he has not felt in a very long time.

It doesn’t have a name, this feeling. And he’s not sure he wants one.

“…tain? Captain.”

The world rushes back. Byakuya blinks and looks up; Renji stands before him with a neat stack of papers in his arms. His lieutenant raises an eyebrow, the corner of his mouth curling up _._ “Daydreaming much?”

His cheeks warm. Byakuya presses his lips together. “Certainly not. You are finished?”

Renji dutifully erases his smile, but the brightness in his eyes remains as he nods and leans forward to deposit the papers on the desk. “Final requisition forms, and all the damage and repair reports from the barracks last night. Christ, with all this paperwork you’d think Aizen himself came and wrecked the rooms.”

Byakuya cocks an eyebrow. “I’d prefer that, slippery as he is.”

“Yeah, well.” Renji reaches up to rub the back of his neck. The movement shifts the fabric of his robes, revealing a sliver of chest and a flash of stark, curling black. Byakuya quickly lifts his gaze to his lieutenant’s face as Renji continues, “Guess that’s what Captain Soifon’s division is for, right? If they can’t figure out where he’s hiding, we sure as hell ain’t got a chance.”

Byakuya frowns. “Somehow I get the feeling better minds are working on it.” Specifically, a mind belonging to one Urahara Kisuke.

Renji shrugs, rolls his shoulders, and straightens up. “Anyway. Point is I’m done, and if there isn’t anything else…?”

He sounds both hopeful and resigned, like he’s just waiting for more work. Byakuya glances sideways. The sunlight from before has faded to bare pink streaks; the work day ended more than an hour ago.

Once, three weeks ago, he would not have hesitated to delegate the rest of his paperwork to Renji, the privilege of a captain who saw his lieutenant as nothing but a mildly competent subordinate. But that was before their battle, before Rukia, before Ichigo, before everything in Byakuya’s world got shaken up and irrevocably rearranged into something raw and new and, perhaps, better.

_Renji_ , he thinks, makes him better.

“No, Lieutenant. You may go.”

“Really?” He catches the flicker of surprise before Renji covers it with a cough. “I mean, okay. Thanks.”

For the next minute Byakuya concentrates on the report in front of him, only vaguely aware of the shuffling and footsteps as Renji packs up. A paragraph later, his lieutenant’s voice drifts across the room. “Good night, Captain.”

He doesn’t look up. “Good night, Renji.”

The soft _slide-click_ of the door announces Renji’s exit. As his footfalls slowly fade down the hall, Byakuya finally lets the façade crumble. The brush clatters to the desktop. With a sigh, he slumps back in his chair and closes his eyes, giving in to exhaustion at last.

These fucking forms. Maybe next time he’ll just let the recruits die and be done with it.

So lost is he in imagining Senbonzakura slicing the papers in front of him into tiny little bits that he misses the sounds outside at first. But then abruptly Renji’s voice mutters, “Oh, fuck _off_ ,” and Byakuya’s eyes shoot back open.

His lieutenant must not have closed the door completely because the voices that echo down the hall are distant yet familiar.

“What?” says Madarame Ikkaku, a sneer as ever coloring his tone, “Too much of a pussy to ask? Gonna offend your delicate sensibilities if he says no?”

“I’ll offend _your_ sensibilities,” Renji mutters, and Hisagi Shuuhei laughs.

“Come on, lay off him,” he says, and Byakuya can almost see him sling an amicable arm over Renji’s shoulder. “He’s just out of practice, since it’s been so long since the engagement.”

“Oh, no way, Abarai-kun was _engaged?_ ” gasps Yumichika. “How’d you even get someone to stick around long enough?”

Renji actually growls at that. “All right, you know what? Last one to the bar buys the first round.”

“Oh, _shit!_ ”

The quick rush- _pop_ of _shunpo_ , and silence falls once again.

In the sudden quiet, it takes a moment for Byakuya to realize he is no longer seated behind his desk. He jerks back from the door with a grimace. He doesn’t even remember moving, only that when he heard Renji’s voice he’d felt an inexplicable urge to get _closer._ And now what is he doing, eavesdropping like some lowly servant? It’s not like they were talking about anything important anyway, just drinking and gossip and exactly what one would expect of common shinigami.

And the fact that Renji was once, apparently, engaged.

For a long moment Byakuya stands there, staring down at his hands. Engaged. Renji was engaged, as in in love, as in going to be married. He…doesn’t know what to do with this information. In all the time they’ve worked together, his lieutenant has never mentioned any sort of relationship, much less one so serious. Indeed, Byakuya had almost convinced himself that Renji simply _didn’t_ date, didn’t show an interest in anything other than his friends and his job and his desire to best his captain in battle.

But alas, it seems in this he has also been shortsighted. It makes sense; the Gotei 13 demands its soldiers’ loyalty, not their hearts. Why shouldn’t Renji pursue whoever he wishes in his free time?

Although…why, then, has Byakuya not heard any mention of it until today? Had Rukia ever spoken of it? Does she even know? And if not, who does?

A passing breeze rattles the door. Byakuya takes a step back and frowns. He shouldn’t even be thinking about this. Renji is a fine lieutenant and a loyal officer; what business is it of Byakuya’s what he does on his off hours? The fact that Renji once loved someone enough to seek her hand in marriage has no bearing on his performance within the Sixth, or his training or his everyday work, or even his relationship with Byakuya. If Renji chooses to…to _fraternize_ with…

His temple throbs, sudden and sharp. Byakuya sighs and pinches the bridge of his nose. Perhaps he is just tired…yes, that must be it. The headache, the way his chest has tightened and a cold weight settled in his gut—he has overworked himself today. Typical, he thinks, tugging at the sleeve of his robe in irritation. He can almost see Renji’s lopsided grin: _Better take it easy, Captain. After all, you wouldn’t want to leave_ me _in charge of the division._

Gods forbid. Shaking his head, Byakuya dismisses his lieutenant’s image and turns toward the door. Sleep: that is what he needs. Some good food, a stroll in the manor’s gardens, and a full night’s rest uninterrupted by alarms from the division’s barracks. Yes. Sleep.

He’ll have forgotten all about this by tomorrow.

 

Except, as it turns out, he doesn’t—forget, that is. In fact, Byakuya finds himself unable to think of anything _but_ Renji and his mysterious fiancée all through the next day. He can’t understand why. Renji arrives at the office with the usual cheerful “Good morning, Captain,” and the first thing Byakuya thinks is _I wonder if he greeted her the same way._ His lieutenant takes a moment at his desk to redo his ponytail: _Did she brush his hair for him?_ During morning training Renji briefly teases the poor division members still evicted from their rooms: _Did they live together? Eat together?_ Sleep _together?_

It is…embarrassing, to say the least, how easily the thoughts distract him. He barely hears the report from the Logistics and Engineering worker about repairs to the barracks, too busy wondering where Renji might have met his fiancée. Perhaps back in the Rukongai, trying to scrape out a living side by side? Or did he meet her at the Academy—was she a shinigami too?

And what might she have looked like? Did she also have tattoos? Long, brightly-colored hair? Was her laugh toothy and open, were her touches free and without guile? Or perhaps she was quieter, more reserved. Perhaps she enjoyed peaceful walks along the river or an afternoon in with a good book. Perhaps she was lithe and dark-haired, strategic and intelligent, a perfect complement to Renji’s fiery personality…

“Oi. Captain.”

He snaps his head up to see Renji watching him from behind his desk with a frown. “That’s the second time you’ve zoned out on me. Is everything okay?”

Quickly Byakuya clears his throat. “Yes. I was merely…concentrating.”

“Reeeally.” The frown melts into an easy grin as Renji nods at the far corner of the room. “Something real fascinating about the floor in this place, huh? Composing a haiku for it, maybe?”

His smile is soft and his eyes warm, a calm acceptance Byakuya has unwittingly come to rely on these past few weeks. It makes him feel light inside, almost playful, so he tilts his head and thinks for a moment. As always, the words float to him with little coaxing. “ _Mischievous sunlight…washes shadow-dappled floors…in colors of spring._ ”

He looks up at Renji’s whistle. “All right, not bad,” his lieutenant admits, putting up his hands.

He seems about to turn back to his work. Byakuya does not know what possesses him to say, “Perhaps you could do better?”

Renji blinks at him. Then, slowly, his smile widens. He has never been one to back down from a challenge.

His lieutenant glances around the office for a moment before taking a breath. “Okay, um. _Sakura singing…a delicate symphony…_ ”

Byakuya allows his eyes to fall shut, imagining Renji’s words drifting about him like Senbonzakura’s petals.

“… _funky Dalmatian._ ”

The laugh escapes before he can stop it, a quick rush of breath. When he opens his eyes again, Renji is watching him, smile bright and infectious. “Didn’t think I had it in me, didja?”

Byakuya shakes his head. It is too late to recover his stony façade, and he finds he doesn’t want to. Not with Renji, not anymore. So he lets the smile remain, and the next question seems the most natural in the world. “Why do you do this, Lieutenant?”

Renji blinks. “Do what?”

Byakuya waves his hand vaguely between them. “This. Lately, with me, you have become so much more…” Open. Warm. _Yourself._ “…free.”

“Oh.” To his credit, Renji looks a little caught off-guard. “Is…that a problem?”

“I did not say so.”

“Oh, okay. Good.” His lieutenant looks away and draws his thumb across his bottom lip. Silence descends for a few moments, long enough that Byakuya starts to wonder if he’s crossed a line somehow when Renji suddenly speaks.

“Well, I…” He shrugs. “I guess after all that shi—stuff went down with Rukia and Ichigo, things sort of…changed between us. I don’t know if you’ve noticed.”

“I have.”

“Right. So.” Renji huffs out a laugh, but it seems a little nervous, a little forced. “And just, after seeing the way you…I mean, I found myself…well.” He casts his gaze about the room for a moment before finally seeming to take a deep breath. When he turns to look at Byakuya, it is difficult to discern the emotion in his eyes: some strange, confusing mix of resolve, hope, and resignation.

“Let’s just say,” Renji says then, deliberate, “that I realized something important.”

Silence falls. Byakuya blinks as Renji continues to watch him, quiet.

He…doesn’t understand. The events surrounding Rukia’s would-be execution were so chaotic, Renji could be referring to anything involving Byakuya at the time. Does he mean the way he risked himself protecting his sister? The way he was defeated by Ichigo? The way he was fooled by Aizen?

The way he’d looked at Renji in the hospital room, and asked him to hate him?

Renji just watches him, brown eyes soft and utterly unreadable. He doesn’t seem to expect a response, yet Byakuya finds with a jolt that he wants to give him one. Even though he doesn’t recognize the question, it feels like he should know the right answer.

Somehow, he needs to _try_. “Renji, I—”

“Forgive my interruption!”

They both look up to see Rikichi standing in the open doorway. The young officer bows. “Captain Kuchiki, Lieutenant Abarai. The interdivision meeting is about to start.”

Surprised, Byakuya glances at the clock to see they are, indeed, on the verge of being late. He’d forgotten completely about the weekly captain/lieutenant meeting, even though it has recurred on his schedule since he took over the Sixth Division.

…He has been distracted. By _Renji_.

The guilty party clears his throat and rises. “Great,” he says to Rikichi. “Lead the way. Coming, sir?”

Renji’s voice is cheerful and his expression light, betraying nothing of that odd flash of vulnerability from before. Indeed, had Byakuya not been there to witness it, he might have thought he’d imagined the whole thing.

From the door, Rikichi gives him a vaguely harried look. Byakuya suppresses a sigh and nods, rising from his chair. He’ll ask Renji about it later, when Gotei 13 duties are no longer in the way. Right now there are bigger things to worry about: Aizen, Tousen, and Gin; their sinister plans for the _hougyoku._ Soul Society needs Captain Kuchiki and Lieutenant Abarai, leaders of the Sixth, soldiers and shinigami and nothing else. It will have to be enough.

Still, even as he follows Renji and Rikichi out the door, Byakuya can’t help but feel he has just missed something vital.

 

For the first time in his not inconsiderable life, Byakuya finds a meeting utterly interminable. He knows he should be paying more attention: Soifon’s intel, though sparse, is all they have to go on right now, and the measured, deliberate way Yamamoto addresses them betrays his worry about the coming war. The atmosphere, as it has been for the past month, weighs somber and heavy upon them. The concern is palpable, under the still-thick shroud of grief, shock, and betrayal.

Whatever Aizen is planning, its shockwaves will shake Soul Society to its very core. They are worried. They are scared.

And today, Byakuya finds with no small amount of bewilderment that he doesn’t _care._

It is all Renji’s doing. His lieutenant stands at attention with his peers on the other side of the room, straight-backed and attentive to the proceedings like any good officer, and Byakuya can’t tear his eyes away. Their conversation from before seems to have cast Renji in a new light; it is as if Byakuya is seeing him for the first time. He sweeps his gaze over Renji and wonders if his shoulders have always been so broad, his hair so bright fiery red, the stark lines of his tattoos etched so cleanly into his skin. Has Renji always smiled that way, bright and a little lop-sided as Matsumoto whispers something amusing into his ear? Have his fingers resting on Zabimaru’s hilt always been so long, skillful and adept at any task? Have his eyes as they settle on Byakuya always been such a soft brown, so full of—

Wait. Renji is _looking at him._

Embarrassment heats his face and Byakuya quickly turns away, focusing his gaze once again on Yamamoto. But his mind does not follow. There is shame, yes, and not a bit of irritation—it is certainly not Byakuya’s fault Renji is so distracting, so brash, so full of life, so very… _Renji._ Yet underneath it all, in a way he cannot explain, something deep inside him lights at the prospect of Renji’s attention, something subtle and warm that flushes his cheeks with a feeling that is not embarrassment.

He wants Renji to look at him, and only him. He wants to feel the weight of his lieutenant’s gaze, of his singular focus, wants to feel this warmth inside him expand and grow into something he can finally name. And certainly Byakuya knows he already has Renji’s attention—as his commanding officer and superior, the one person Renji hopes to best. As Renji’s captain, he has his loyalty and trust, has earned them with a depth forged only in battle and blood. But somehow Byakuya finds he wants something…different. He wants something warmer, _closer_ , something sacred to just the two of them, when on quiet, sunlit afternoons Renji will turn to him with that soft smile and say, _Ne, Captain…_

“Excuse me, Captain?”

The world slams back. Byakuya blinks in alarm at the meeting room around him, which suddenly seems emptier than it did a second ago. In front of him, holding a clipboard, Lieutenant Hisagi tilts his head. “Are you well?”

About half the other captains have already left. The remaining shinigami mill about the room, exchanging friendly conversation. Byakuya catches a familiar flash of red in the corner as Renji speaks in low tones to a sullen-looking Kira, and the sight sets something confusing and not altogether unwelcome curling in his gut.

He turns to Hisagi and lies, “Fine.”

“Right.” If the Ninth Division lieutenant doesn’t believe him, he’s wise enough not to show it. Instead, he offers up the clipboard. “Well, I’m stuck with sign-in duties, so if you don’t mind…?”

“Of course.” Byakuya takes the clipboard and the proffered brush and scans the pages, looking for his division. And perhaps it is because he is feeling slightly off-balance, or perhaps it is that Hisagi Shuuhei has always struck him as level-headed and honest. Perhaps he simply loses his grasp on sanity for a moment. Regardless, the words tumble out of Byakuya’s mouth before he can stop them. “Who was Renji engaged to?”

Silence. It takes all Byakuya’s willpower not to look up, forcing his gaze to remain focused on the papers before him even as vague horror creeps into his consciousness. Did he just...?

Hisagi seems as surprised as Byakuya feels, if his slightly strangled voice is any indication. “I, uh. I didn’t realize you overheard us, Captain.”

Forcing his tone to stay even, Byakuya answers, “The office walls are not soundproof, Lieutenant.”

“Oh. I apologize if we were noisy last night.”

“You haven’t answered my question.”

Byakuya locates the Sixth Division signature lines in the middle of the page, pausing just long enough to note the messy scrawl of Renji’s signature next to his name before he pretends to have missed it completely and keeps flipping. Somehow, despite the flush of embarrassment he can feel creeping up the back of his neck, he needs to hear Hisagi’s answer.

After another moment, the dark-haired lieutenant clears his throat. “Uh. With all due respect, Captain, I don’t feel it’s my position to divulge that information.”

Byakuya finally looks up. Hisagi, to his credit, still looks a little bewildered, but he’s standing up straight, shoulders set and jaw firm. And really, why did Byakuya expect any different? Renji’s friends have always been loyal to a fault.

Releasing a breath, he signs his name. “Very well. Thank you, Lieutenant.”

“You know, sir,” Hisagi says then, as he takes the clipboard back, “If you don’t mind my saying, I’m really not the one you should be asking.” His tone has lightened, become almost…knowing.

It’s enough to throw Byakuya off balance once again. “That is hardly an appropriate topic of conversation to have with one’s lieutenant.”

“And yet you’re fine bringing it up with me.” Hisagi hums and glances briefly over Byakuya’s shoulder, toward Renji and Kira. “I don’t know, Captain. I think, maybe, if you gave it a shot, you might be pleasantly surprised.”

And the way he says it, cheerful, almost deliberate, like he knows something Byakuya doesn’t…it doesn’t sit right. The fact that there are things Hisagi knows about Renji that Byakuya doesn’t, a side of his lieutenant that the other man gets to see but remains closed off to Byakuya as neatly as the drawing of an iron curtain—it sets that strange, hot feeling twisting inside his heart, makes him feel tense and awkward and woefully inadequate.

“Captain?” Hisagi watches him, lip turned upward in the barest hint of a smile. _He is laughing at me,_ Byakuya thinks, and what happens next is reflexive, defensive, everything he was three weeks ago rearing up without a thought.

“Such an exchange between yourself and your captain would have been useful as well,” he says, before he can stop himself.

Another brief silence. Like a gunman after the bullet has been fired, Byakuya watches with dismay as the light in Hisagi’s eyes fades, the tiny smile sputtering out into nothing as his shoulders sag and he drops his gaze to the floor. “Yes, sir,” he murmurs, and retreats.

Byakuya is left to watch him go. For the first time in a long time, he feels like an utter idiot. Anyone with eyes could have seen Hisagi meant no disrespect; Byakuya had no right to bring up Tousen like that. Yet he just felt so…vulnerable. Like after a day of distraction and confusion and the warring within his heart, he just couldn’t bear one more attack.

“Captain.”

Byakuya barely contains his sigh as he turns and nods. “Lieutenant.”

Renji’s face is utterly unreadable as he jerks his chin in the direction of the door. “A word?”

And really, Byakuya should say no. _Denied, Renji. We will not speak of this again._ But he doesn’t. Despite the turmoil in his head and the mix of emotions in his heart, Byakuya knows Renji has the right to ask him about this. He’s earned it, although Byakuya is still not quite sure how.

He leads them out of the meeting room, down a few side hallways, and into one of the many recently-emptied administrative offices, another unfortunate side effect of Aizen’s defection.

The door has barely shut behind them before Renji turns, crosses his arms, and says, “Permission to speak freely, sir?”

“I welcome it.”

Renji snorts. “Not from the way you just snapped at Hisagi, you don’t.”

Byakuya doesn’t reply, which Renji seems to take as a cue to continue. “Way I figure it, the only thing you two have in common is me. Which means he got you angry somehow by talking about me.”

Of all the times for Renji to be astute. Byakuya sighs. “Lieutenant—”

“And if you don’t mind, _Captain,_ ” Renji continues, the first hint of true anger entering his voice, “if you have something to ask me, then ask me. Don’t go around bullying my friends, they haven’t—”

“Why didn’t you marry?”

“—done anything to—wait, what?” The indignation in Renji’s expression vanishes with a swiftness that is almost comical. “What did you just say?”

Byakuya takes a deep breath. It’s done; he can’t take it back. And he finds, finally, that he doesn’t want to. “You were engaged once, yet you are not married,” he says. “What happened?”

“I…” Renji blinks; it is clear, out of all the ways this conversation could have gone, this is the one he expected the least. “Wait. Why are we talking about this?”

“I wish to know.”

“Yeah, well.” Renji uncrosses his arms and rubs the back of his neck. If anything, he just looks more confused. “She fell in love with someone else, so she broke it off. It was a long time ago.”

Byakuya stares. “Why?”

Renji shrugs. “Well, I hear he was super rich, owned like three separate houses or something, maybe from some minor noble family, I dunno—”

“No.” Byakuya steps forward, swallowing against the sudden lump in his throat because he…he doesn’t _understand_. “Why would she ever leave someone like you?”

Silence falls as they stand there staring at each other, Renji in confusion, Byakuya in…something much more complex. He just…he doesn’t understand. Perhaps if Renji had been the one to leave her then yes, but she had left him. Why? He didn’t have money, or power, or a huge grand house—so what? Byakuya has all those things and more, yet he could never hope to be as good a man as Renji. How could she have left it all behind? How could she have looked at Renji, at his strong shoulders and fiery hair, his fierce devotion and ever-expanding heart, and thought…?

So wrapped up is he in the confusing storm of questions that he almost misses it when Renji moves. His lieutenant cocks his head, and slowly, the confused expression from before melts into something a little more like understanding. Renji’s lip curls up just a bit. “Hey, Captain?”

“Yes, Renji.”

“I was wondering if you’d like to have tea with me this evening.”

And it seems confusion is the theme of the day, because all Byakuya can do is blink and say, “Tea?” like a child.

Renji doesn’t seem to mind though. “Yeah,” he says, tugging at the sleeves of his robe. “The Seventh Seat brings it in from his family farm. Usually it’s all gone by lunchtime, but I managed to snatch up part of his stash by trading sentry shifts tomorrow.”

Byakuya frowns. “That is not proper.”

Renji just grins. “I’ll take that as a yes?”

And really, when Renji smiles like that, how can Byakuya refuse? If anything, it will give him some time to settle this raging storm of emotions inside him, and perhaps then, he and Renji can talk. “Very well.”

“Great. Say, seven?”

“That is fine.”

“Okay. See you then.” And without another word, Renji turns and walks out. Byakuya would reprimand him for leaving without proper dismissal, but he is too busy wondering what just happened.

 

Several hours later, standing outside Renji’s door in the Sixth Division barracks, Byakuya still hasn’t figured it out. He hasn’t seen his lieutenant since the meeting, Renji having alternated between supervising training and helping with repairs all afternoon. Byakuya, too, busied himself finishing up paperwork and planning for their Rukongai patrols next week.

Still, even without his lieutenant in his direct line of sight, Byakuya hasn’t been able to stop thinking about Renji. Not just the knowing look on Renji’s face when he invited Byakuya for tea, but everything before that—the realization Renji said he made, all the banter they’ve traded over the last few weeks, the way Renji made him laugh with his silly haiku. And his own reaction: the way something inside him warmed every time Renji smiled at him, the loosening of a knot in his chest every time his lieutenant entered the office, the fierce protectiveness Byakuya felt when Renji admitted his fiancée left him.

Is this perhaps some deeper level of a captain-lieutenant bond Byakuya never heard about? Does this mean they are _friends?_ Why, then, does Byakuya feel a flare of irritation every time he thinks of Renji’s former fiancée? Why does he feel all of a sudden so protective, so _indignant_ on Renji’s behalf, that someone could have loved him and then let him go as if he were nothing?

Outside, the last fading streaks of twilight finally melt into darkness. Lanterns flicker on, casting a warm, gentle glow across the empty courtyard. Still embroiled in a rolling mess of confusion, Byakuya lifts his hand and knocks on Renji’s door.

Two seconds later it slides open, and he forgets to breathe.

His lieutenant stands just inside the doorway, watching him with a soft expression. He has traded his shinigami robes for a thin summer yukata, red like wine with a softness Byakuya can almost feel beneath his fingers. His hair, freshly washed, hangs over his left shoulder in a loose braid, and the light from the lanterns outside washes his skin warm and dark, the lines of his tattoos running smooth over the planes of his muscles with a subtle, dangerous allure.

Renji is _beautiful_ , in every form the word can take, and then countless forms beyond that. He is everything Byakuya has ever wanted, and in that moment it is as if something deep inside him shifts, an off-axis tilt finally righting itself into place. The confusion disappears, leaving in its wake only a mild acceptance, a settling—a _rightness_ , steady as a heartbeat. And, just like that, he knows.

He knows why he has allowed Renji so much freedom with him in the office these last few weeks. Why they trade banter and smiles alongside sword strikes and paperwork. Why he snapped at Hisagi. Why Renji’s engagement bothered him so.

And, looking at the way Renji raises an eyebrow at him, he knows Renji himself figured this out a long time ago. He has only been waiting for Byakuya to catch up.

Across the courtyard, someone rings the bell to announce seven o’clock. Renji straightens up and tilts his head. “Captain,” he says, the formality of the title doing nothing to hide the knowing warmth in his eyes. “You’re right on time.”

Byakuya sighs. “No,” he says, as he enters the warmth of Renji’s room. “I am, in fact, late.”

Kissing his lieutenant’s answering smile is the simplest thing in the world.

**Author's Note:**

> Byakuya will be far less dense in my future works, I promise.
> 
> **Regarding translations:** All my works, including this one, can be translated without first asking my express permission. I ask only that you credit me as the original author and provide a link back to the original work. For anything other than translations, please ask first. Thanks.


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